


you have your bamboo bones

by alliterate



Category: Marvel (Comics), Young Avengers
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, Missing Scene, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2018-02-12 14:40:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2113731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alliterate/pseuds/alliterate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Princess. I've seen the way you look at me. You're not that straight.</em> (The team heads back to Kate's after the big showdown, and Kate gets a little fixated.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	you have your bamboo bones

**Author's Note:**

> Written for tumblr user [swordwitch](http://swordwitch.tumblr.com), in response to the prompt, _Kate Bishop/America Chavez, "That is one hell of a mess."_ Originally posted on tumblr and slightly cleaned up since. Makes a lot of reference to the state America is in on [this page](http://puu.sh/aaZkG/60a27d1a58.jpg%0A) and following, in case any memories need refreshing. Title stolen from the Against Me! song Bamboo Bones. Also, fair warning, this is kind of ridiculous, but I had fun with it.

One lesson Kate has learned over the years is that the high of a victory will always, always be followed by a crash. The crashes don't hit her as hard as they do some of her friends and colleagues; Eli, for example, had often needed a day or two of time alone to recover and recharge. Still, there's always the inevitable moment when reality crashes its way back through the haze of post-victory euphoria, when she becomes sharply aware of the aches in her muscles and the gross sweat drying in her hair.

After the thing with all the evil exes, the high carries her right through their celebratory IHOP dinner and doesn't give up on her until their walk home, as she's trailing along behind the rest of them, lost in thought and kind of staring at America's back. America's...rainbow-coloured, slime-splattered back, all coated with blood and Kate doesn't even want to _know_ what other alien bodily fluids.

"Oh my god," Kate says loudly, interrupting whatever America had just been saying to David. "That is one hell of a mess."

America and David both stop and look back over their shoulders at her. America looks puzzled, like she'd forgotten she's currently a walking horror movie set, and David looks...like David. Kate can't ever really get a read on that guy. Then America glances down at herself and back up at Kate. "Yeah, well, we can't all stay nice and clean taking down bad guys from a distance, princess," she says, and then she turns and starts walking again, picking up her conversation with David like there'd never been any interruption.

They end up back at Kate's place, ultimately, since it's the biggest space any of them have that isn't also full of elder Kaplans. Kate loves her apartment; she's spent a lot of time and effort making it feel warm and comforting and homelike. Normally it's, like, a chill-zone for her, somewhere she can go to just shut her brain off about the job and bad guys and team politics, but tonight, even as they sprawl out across her furniture, each of them tired and happy, she finds herself still fixating on the technicolour mess staining America's clothes and hair and face. Like - it's _drying_ in her _hair_ , and there's no way it doesn't feel disgusting on her skin.

At some point, America must feel Kate's eyes on her, because she looks over to where Kate is stretched across an entire couch - with her feet firmly planted in Teddy's lap, because this is her party and she'll use her friends as furniture if she wants to - and raises an eyebrow.

(One very, very nice eyebrow. Kate is so jealous of her eyebrows.)

Instead of voicing that thought, she raises her own eyebrows at America in return. "Seriously," she says, and her voice comes out a little rusty with exhaustion. She clears her throat and starts again. "Seriously, how are you not, like, dying with all that alien goo all over you."

America looks deeply unimpressed. "What, afraid I'm gonna get it on your couch?" Kate opens her mouth to respond, but America rolls her eyes. "I'm kidding. What do you expect me to do, though, it's not like I was packing a fresh change of clothes with me through the multiverse."

"I've got clothes," Kate says. There's a pause. America just looks at her. "No, seriously, I've got an entire walk-in closet full of clothes literally just through that door. Come on, I know I'll have something that'll fit you."

She kicks Teddy once, rolls heavily to her feet, and stands, looking pointedly at America until she gets up and follows Kate to her room.

Kate opens the door to her bedroom with a flourish, and America trails in behind her, then pauses. "Wow, this is… purple," she says when Kate looks back at her. She glances at her own clothes. "And I guess I should wash up before I go putting on any of your fancy designer outfits."

Oh, right, Kate thinks. Hygiene. She points to the bathroom door. "Bathroom's through there, linens are in the cupboard on the right." America gives her an unimpressed look, like, _seriously, an en-suite?_ , but she disappears into the bathroom without saying a word.

The tap turns on, but America doesn't close the door. After a minute or two of Kate awkwardly standing around in her own bedroom, she calls out, voice echoing on the tiles, "Dude, do you have any soap that doesn't smell like… what is this, jasmine?"

"Lavender," Kate calls back. There's a faint laugh in return. She smiles. "And yeah, it's - hold on. Is it cool if I come in?"

"Sure, whatever," America replies, so Kate follows her inside.

America's taken her shirt off when she gets in there, down to just her jeans and bra - a black sports bra, racerback, same brand Cassie used to wear, very nice - and she's scrubbing at some stubborn flecks of pink inside her elbow. She looks up and meets Kate's eyes in the mirror, then looks back down. Kate shuffles past her and kneels down in front of the cupboard on her far side, yanking it open and rummaging through her bins of cleaning products and nail polish and… phone charger? Whatever.

Finally she digs up a bottle of unscented body soap. "Voila!" She hands it over to America, who takes it without looking and squirts some onto the cloth in her hand and gets scrubbing. Kate shoves everything haphazardly back inside the cupboard, pushes herself back to her feet with no help from her extremely sore hamstrings, and hops up on the counter next to America.

For a few minutes, the only sound in the room is the water rushing from the faucet. Kate's still super tired, she realizes after a bit, and she kind of zones out looking at America's hips. Which are awesome. Kate totally wishes she had those hips, too. Finally, America, having apparently washed away the worst of the damage, drops the cloth in the sink, sighs, and gives herself a once-over in the mirror. "Man, it really is gonna suck washing this out of my hair." She shoots Kate a sideways look, like she's expecting an I-told-you-so.

"Oh, I can help you with that," Kate says instead. She hops off the counter and gestures toward the tub.

"What?"

"Just - kneel down over here, and I'll help you. Seriously, I have awesome shampoo, and this always goes way better with someone else to help you."

America looks at her for a moment, then laughs a little. Something flutters strangely in Kate's chest. "Thanks, but no thanks, princess," America replies. The look she shoots Kate this time looks more searching, and Kate's not really sure what that means. "Maybe next time."

Kate shrugs. "Your loss. I'm a master shampooer. I could practically make it my day job." She waggles her fingers for emphasis and then gestures back towards her bedroom. "Clothes, then, I guess. Shall we?"

America shrugs, so Kate leads her back through to the bedroom and into her closet. The closet that was like 60% of the reason she picked this apartment. Kate wasn't kidding about having a lot of clothes.

There's a soft snort from behind her. When Kate turns to look at America, she's taking in the racks and racks of dresses lining the walls with her eyebrows raised. "I don't know why I wasn't expecting this. You're, like, the ultra-femme."

Kate grins at her and waggles her eyebrows. She could swear America smiles a little. "Ultra-Femme! New codename, I love it. And whatever, I know what I like."

"Hey, I wasn't judging."

"Whatever." Kate turns back to her clothes. "What are you anyway, like, an 8?" she asks absently, rummaging through one particular rack. She pulls out a dark blue skater dress and holds it up in front of America appraisingly. "How about this? It should work."

America shrugs and takes the dress from her. "Good enough for me." She puts her shirt and jacket carefully on top of a nearby tower of shoeboxes and starts to slip out of her leggings. Kate turns away, blushing a little for some reason. She's never been body shy. Or, like, other-people's-bodies shy, either. Whatever, she's tired.

There's a bit of shuffling for a minute, and then America says, "So? How's it look?"

Kate turns around, and - damn. " _Damn_ ," she says appreciatively, eyeing the way it shows off America's shoulders. Which, like, are admittedly always awesome, but _damn_. America rolls her eyes again. "No, seriously, that thing looks way better on you than me. You're keeping it."

"But -"

"It's yours! Here, put your clothes in this." She holds out a big reusable shopping bag, one of the million she has stuffed precariously atop her highest shelves. America takes it from her and dumps her gross alien-soaked clothes inside. "Back to the party?"

America shrugs. "I'm not sure you can really call that a party," she says, but she doesn't move, so Kate pushes past her to get to the door. She stumbles a little over a pair of pants she'd tried on the other morning and discarded on the floor - nobody has ever accused Kate Bishop of being neat and tidy - and when America steadies her, for just a second, with a hand on her side, something warm unfolds in her chest and rises through her neck and cheeks. God, she must be more tired than she thought.

"Whoops," she says belatedly. "Thanks." America does the eyebrow thing at her again, but Kate ignores it and makes for her bedroom door. She opens it and steps back out into the party. Which is totally a party. "Hey boys. Missed us?"

There's a few tired waves in her direction, and a wolf whistle from Billy when America follows her through the door. "Shut up, Kaplan," America says, and the two of them reclaim their seats in Kate's living room. Teddy even lets her wriggle back into place with her feet on him again. He's such a nice boy.

She arranges a cushion behind her head and settles in to listen to them all talk about how weird that whole Mother situation was some more, and if she keeps glancing at America across the room, sitting on her couch and wearing the hell out of her dress, well, nobody could fault Kate for admiring her own handiwork.


End file.
